There was black mud.
Dirty, slimy, smelly mud.
Some seeds landed in the mire.
Brown ordinary looking seeds.
Nothing special to look at.
But! They germinated sending,
Down roots into the slime.
Soon shoots appeared,
And leaves grew.
Bright flowers appeared.
Pink, lovely blooms.
The mud was covered,
With verdant leaves and,
Beautiful colourful flowers.
Without the mud there,
Would have no flowers.
May the beautiful blossoms,
Of compassion bloom.
May the mud of hatred,
Anger and despair,
Be replaced in our hearts,
By the lovely flowers of compassion.
May they bloom and
Brighten every day.
Oke Iroegbu's Blog 